


The Enigmatic Mr. Collins

by LPK9



Series: A Fortuitous Fall [2]
Category: Pride and Prejudice & Related Fandoms, Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:55:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27112240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LPK9/pseuds/LPK9
Summary: Mr. Collins struck his head and awoke changed, becoming a brilliant and much beloved character, in contrast to his formerly annoying self. Mr. Collins continues to explore subjects of interest. How will his insight and perspective affect the lives and loves of those around him?Note: I took down this story per Amazon policy. The completed book including additional content is now available on Amazon and Kindle Unlimited.
Relationships: Elizabeth Bennet/Fitzwilliam Darcy, Lydia Bennet/Original Character(s), Mary Bennet/Original Male Character(s), William Collins/Charlotte Lucas
Series: A Fortuitous Fall [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1980769
Comments: 9
Kudos: 110





	1. Chapter 1

This is a sequel to my previous book, [_A Fortuitous Fall_](https://www.amazon.com/Fortuitous-Fall-Pride-Prejudice-Variation-ebook/dp/B08KRK8W1S/ref=sr_1_14?dchild=1&keywords=regency+romance+kindle+unlimited&qid=1603153475&s=digital-text&sr=1-14). In the first book, Mr. Collins fell and struck his head during the ball at Netherfield. He woke up the next day, Changed. He was no longer a bumbling, obsequious parson, but a brilliant, blunt clergyman. It was revealed that Mr. Collins is, in fact, a genius whose incredible intelligence was suppressed by abuse from his illiterate and cruel father. The fall caused his intelligent persona to regain control.

Mr. Collins eventually married Miss Charlotte Lucas and left Hunsford and Lady Catherine de Bourgh in favor of a small parish 15 miles from Pemberley. Thus, he and Mrs. Collins now spend significant time with Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth Darcy. Elizabeth’s younger sister, Mary, wed Mr. Martyn, the steward of the parish where Mr. Collins is rector.

If you would like to read my novel, [_A Fortuitous Fall_](https://www.amazon.com/Fortuitous-Fall-Pride-Prejudice-Variation-ebook/dp/B08KRK8W1S/ref=sr_1_14?dchild=1&keywords=regency+romance+kindle+unlimited&qid=1603153475&s=digital-text&sr=1-14), it is [available on Amazon and Kindle Unlimited](https://www.amazon.com/Fortuitous-Fall-Pride-Prejudice-Variation-ebook/dp/B08KRK8W1S/ref=sr_1_14?dchild=1&keywords=regency+romance+kindle+unlimited&qid=1603153475&s=digital-text&sr=1-14).

/

/

Chapter 1 

_September 1814_

_2 years after the marriage of Darcy and Elizabeth, and Mr. William and Mrs. Charlotte Collins_

_1 year after the marriage of Mary and Mr. Benjamin Martyn_

_Location: the parsonage at Bastow, Derbyshire (Mr. and Mrs. Collins’s home)_

“The poor angel is working on her teeth,” Elizabeth Darcy explained, rubbing the back of her small daughter Rosemary. “She sometimes cries from the pain, but I think her two teeth have nearly broken through.”

“Poor dear,” Mrs. Charlotte Collins responded with quick compassions. “Our Tobias has eight teeth now, do you not, my darling?”

Her baby son looked up with a smile and then fixed his brown eyes on Mr. Collins’s white cat, which had taken her place on the couch near Charlotte. 

“Kit!” the child squealed, toddling eagerly towards the feline. The animal took one horrified look at the approaching youngster and fled in terror, causing baby Rosemary Darcy to squawk in delight and Tobias to begin crying.

Lydia Bennet suppressed a strong desire to clap her hands over her ears at the noise. Really, how did mothers survive the noisiness of their offspring? Her own mother, she knew, had handed her children off to nurses until they were old enough to be quiet in company, but Charlotte and Elizabeth were far more engaged mothers with their own tiresomely loud offspring.

“I am going outside for some air,” she told Elizabeth. Her older sister smiled and nodded, and Lydia rose and departed quickly. She hurried out the back passageway and into the glebe behind the house. When the door shut behind her with a bang, the last sounds of screaming babies faded away and Lydia relaxed.

She glanced around and then made her way over to a simple wooden bench which had been placed under a tall oak tree. The early September sun was hot and she would begin sweating in her gown if she did not take cover.

Once Lydia had settled onto her seat, she looked around with interest. She had visited Derbyshire a year ago when her sister Mary wed Mr. Martyn in the nearby church, but Charlotte had unexpectedly gone into labor before the wedding ceremony, and thus Lydia had not stepped inside the Collins’s parsonage itself. Today she and Elizabeth had traveled the fifteen miles from Pemberley to Bastow to visit Charlotte, and Lydia had seen the inside of her friend’s home for the first time.

Lydia’s first impressions were not particularly positive. Charlotte’s home was far smaller than Longbourn, the Bennet house back in Hertfordshire, and poor Charlotte was making do with only six full time servants, which was completely _absurd._ How could any gentlewoman survive with so little help, especially with a needy baby boy?

The furnishings, too, were very simple compared to Longbourn’s. Mrs. Bennet, Lydia’s mother, loved pretty things and every flat surface at Longbourn was decorated with figurines or potted plants. Charlotte had very little in the way of ornaments though perhaps that was partly due to the baby. Elizabeth too had a comparatively simply furnished home, and had explained that now that Rosemary was crawling, anything within reach of a child had to be carefully tucked away.

The fifth Bennet daughter leaned back and slowly blew out her breath. Only two years ago, she had been extremely eager to get married; indeed, she thought that if she could be married first of all her sisters, it would be the best thing in the world.

Now that her three eldest sisters were married, Lydia was far more aware of the challenges of married life. She would marry eventually no doubt, but for now, she was happy to be single and carefree and healthy. All three of her older sisters had been quite ill the first few months of their pregnancies, and now Jane and Elizabeth were tied down by demanding, if thoroughly adorable, babies. 

“ _Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound ...”_

Lydia sat up and looked around in bewilderment. She was familiar with the hymn but the person singing it, obviously a male based on the low notes, did not have a good voice.

“ _That saved a wretch like me!”_

The girl rose from her feet and walked swiftly toward the singing, which was in the direction of the new barn, which Lydia knew had been recently erected near the parsonage.

“ _I once was lost, but now am found, was blind but now I see.”_

With a wrinkled nose from a most obnoxious smell, which added to the unpleasantness of the poor singing, Lydia turned the corner and found herself staring into an outdoor pen which was shaded by a large elm tree. . Inside the pen was a very large pink sow, and attached to the sow were ten piglets, all drinking milk raptly from the teats of their enormous mother.

Mr. Collins, Charlotte’s husband, was standing in a corner of the pen, singing badly, but he stopped when he observed Lydia.

“Ah, Miss Lydia! Do you sing?”

Her mouth dropped open briefly before she managed to sputter out a reply, “Er, yes, a little? Not as well as Lizzy ...”

“Far better than me, I am certain. Please do sing, Miss Lydia. Petunia likes it when we sing to her, and I must focus on closing her wounds. The beast was injured when a barrier inside fell over and cut her.”

Lydia stared at the man incredulously before dropping her gaze to the sow. The large animals had three gaping cuts along her back. How dreadful!

Hesitatingly at first, and then with increased enthusiasm, she began singing Greensleeves to the pig.

Mr. Collins stepped inside the barn and a moment later appeared with a needle and thread. He pulled over a convenient stool, sat down, and began carefully stitching one of the wounds. Lydia ran out of verses to Greensleeves before he was finished so she switched to another popular ballad while Mr. Collins darted in and out of the barn with two more sets of needle and thread, which he used to sew the other wounds shut.

“Thank you very much,” the man finally said, beaming. “You have been enormously helpful. Petunia obviously appreciated her songstress given how quietly she submitted to my medical care. Give me a moment, and I will join you.”

Lydia nodded, still wide eyed at the scene, and waited until her friend’s husband joined her. She almost immediately regretted that decision as Mr. Collins was exceedingly smelly.

“I am going to go jump in the stream, Miss Lydia,” the man said cheerfully, striding away from the barn.

“Jump into the stream?’

“Yes, I have a great deal of pig excrement on my person and would like to wash it away.”

“Cannot the servants clean your clothing?”

The stream was located very near the barn and before Lydia’s startled gaze, the parson waded directly into the brook and sat down so that the water came up to his neck.

“It makes far less work for the servants if I wash myself off first in this manner,” the clergyman explained. “They have enough work without dealing with my thoroughly filthy clothing.

Lydia considered this with wonder. She had never even considered how her own dirty clothing would affect the servants. Why should it matter? They were there to serve, were they not?

Mr. Collins clambered out, water streaming off his loose clothing and walked toward the bench under the oak tree.

“I am going to sit outside in the sun to dry off a bit before entering the parsonage,” he explained. “It will reduce the drips on the floor. Do not feel you must wait outside with me, Miss Lydia.

The girl hesitated for a moment but then sat down at the extreme end of the bench where she would not be in danger of getting wet. She was not ready to go indoors and be subjected to yelling babies.

“How did you learn to stitch close wounds?” she inquired. “It seems quite extraordinary for a clergyman!”

“A very good question,” Mr. Collins replied in a judicious tone. “The truth is that animal husbandry inevitably requires some attention to the illness and injuries of the beasts in our care. I have taken the time to read books and learn from other local men who work with animals on a regular basis. I am also conducting a science experiment.”

“What kind of science experiment?”

“I am studying the use of different kinds of materials to stitch up wounds. Did you notice that the strands were not all the same color?”

Lydia frowned at this, thinking back, “Oh yes! One was black and the other two were yellow.”

“Precisely,” Mr. Collins replied enthusiastically. “The black thread is actually horse hair, from the tail of a horse.”

“How extraordinary! Why would you use something so odd when you can use normal thread, Mr. Collins?”

“Again, a most excellent question, Miss Lydia! First, cotton thread does not work in stitching wounds; it breaks down too quickly. Most doctors use silk thread if it is available. However, there have been reports in scientific literature that horsehair usually results in less infection than silk thread.”

The girl tilted her head in surprise, “Why would the type of thread be important?”

“I wondered that too. The fibers themselves are different, of course; horsehair is grown from a horse and silk from silkworms, but it occurred to me to wonder if it is the processing which is important.”

“Processing?”

“Yes. The horsehair is boiled to make it more pliable. It is possible that perhaps it is the boiling process which is helping in some way.”

“I do not understand how merely boiling thread would ... would make a pig heal better!”

“That is why I am doing the experiment! The horsehair was boiled because it must be to make it pliable. One silk thread has been boiled and the other has not. I will study the wounds to see if they heal similarly. Of course, it is not a perfect experiment; the wounds are not identical. However, the alternative is to deliberately cut the animal to create wounds, and that would not be right.”

“No indeed,” Lydia agreed, shuddering slightly.

“So we will see,” the clergyman finished brightly.

Lydia mulled this over thoughtfully, “The thread is not hot when you use it, correct?”

“No, I let it cool down to normal temperatures.”

“It should not affect the healing of the wounds then,” Lydia said in frustration. “How could it?”

“Many things are altered by being heated, are they not?” her companion inquired reasonably. “Bread dough becomes bread, for example. Raw meat changes into a far more palatable form for eating, even after it cools ...”

“That is true. I admit I had not really thought about it before.”

“The world is full of amazing things, Miss Lydia,” the brilliant rector commented, gazing around in wonder. “It is a privilege when we are able to understand some small part of it better. And now I believe I have dried enough to enter the house, and I am quite ready for tea.”

Lydia rose to her feet and followed the man into the parsonage, her mind whirling busily. How odd to think about heat and its effect on food and horsehair and silk ...

/

/

Author note: Please check out my brand new release, [_Darcy Sails After Her_](https://www.amazon.com/Darcy-Sails-After-Her-Prejudice-ebook/dp/B08NYSYLQK/ref=sr_1_14?crid=B2WUCFWQBAD9&dchild=1&keywords=pride+and+prejudice+variations&qid=1607816382&s=digital-text&sprefix=pride+and%2Caps%2C205&sr=1-14), it is available [on Amazon and Kindle Unlimited](https://www.amazon.com/Darcy-Sails-After-Her-Prejudice-ebook/dp/B08NYSYLQK/ref=sr_1_14?crid=B2WUCFWQBAD9&dchild=1&keywords=pride+and+prejudice+variations&qid=1607816382&s=digital-text&sprefix=pride+and%2Caps%2C205&sr=1-14).


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

“Your tea, Mr. Collins,” Charlotte said, handing over a steaming cup.

Mr. Collins accepted the cup with a soft word of thanks and leaned over to gloomily inspect the bowl of sugar nodules.

“I did my best to cut them into equal sizes,” Charlotte said quietly.

“I know, my dear, I know,” the parson responded. 

“Whatever is wrong, Mr. Collins?” Lydia asked curiously.

“I dislike the lack of symmetry in the sugar lumps. Sugar is shipped in large, nearly conical chunks and cut into pieces with sugar nippers. Of course that means every bit is a slightly different shape and size, which makes it difficult to put exactly the right amount of sugar in the cup.”

“My belief is that the more sugar the better,” the youngest Bennet daughter said with a smile.

“I like exactly the right amount,” Mr. Collins replied petulantly. “There should be some way to make each lump exactly the same size. Perhaps a round shape would be best, or a cubic shape …”

His gaze grew faraway before Charlotte reclaimed his attention, “How is Petunia, Mr. Collins?”

“Ah, she is very well. Miss Lydia assisted me by singing during the operation.”

Elizabeth, who had just stepped into the parlor, lifted a puzzled eyebrow, “Who is Petunia? And what kind of operation?”

“Petunia is my favorite sow,” Charlotte explained, pouring her friend a mug of tea. “She gave birth to ten healthy piglets two days ago, but last night her neighbor sow pushed over a side of her enclosure and injured her. She had three quite deep cuts, I am afraid.”

“I sewed them up very nicely,” Mr. Collins said consolingly. “She was very peaceful while Miss Lydia sang. You have a very nice voice, Miss Lydia.”

Lydia blushed a little, “I do not sing as well as Lizzy or Kitty.”

“I believe you would do well to sing as an alto,” Mr. Collins replied thoughtfully. “Your voice is suited to lower notes.”

“That is an interesting observation,” Elizabeth mused. “I suppose since I am a soprano, I have always been attracted to music that suits my talents. Perhaps we could find some tunes that are more appropriate for your voice, Lydia.”

Lydia shrugged impatiently. She did not truly care about singing very much.

“Lizzy, while I was singing to the pig, Mr. Collins was stitching up her wounds with silk and horsehair. He is doing a science experiment.”

“Is he indeed? What kind of experiment?”

Lydia screwed up her face in a frown of concentration, “He is boiling both horsehair and silk to see whether boiling somehow helps reduce the amount of infection. I think.”

“That is precisely it, Miss Lydia,” Mr. Collins replied in a delighted tone. “Yes, it seems that boiled horsehair …”

Elizabeth listened with half an ear, her eyes focused on her youngest sister. Lydia was gazing at Mr. Collins with an enthusiasm that her older sister had only seen previously when the youngest Miss Bennet was in the presence of a militia officer. It was wonderful to observe Lydia interested in anything serious. Wonderful and surprising.

/////////////////

_Pemberley_

_September 5th, 1814_

_Dearest Mama,_

_Yes, I too received a letter from Jane with her news that she is again with child. That is truly delightful!_

_I beg you not to worry about our futures. Neither the Darcy nor the Bingley fortunes are entailed away from the female line. If all of your daughters bear only daughters, which seems exceedingly unlikely, all will be well._

_Lydia appears to be happy here, though I know you miss her. She is working with Georgiana preparing for their society debuts for the London Season next year. There are, of course, dresses to be made for each of them, and Lydia has been practicing her curtsey for when she is presented to the Queen ..._

The door to the library opened slowly and Elizabeth looked up in surprise. It was early in the morning and after a cup of tea and a piece of toast, she had retreated to the library to write letters while her baby still slept. As the mistress of Pemberley, Elizabeth had her own office, but she preferred to write letters in the library with its gleaming shelves standing in stately glory. The sum total of knowledge in the books here was enough to keep a woman busy for ten lifetimes.

“Lizzy?”

“Lydia? You are up early, dear sister.”

“Yes,” Lydia agreed rather awkwardly, stepping into the room and looking around her curiously.

“Is something wrong?”

“No, no, nothing is wrong exactly …”

Elizabeth waited patiently and Lydia eventually found the courage to speak, “I have never seen the library here at Pemberley. It is enormous.”

“Yes,” her elder sister replied, gazing around fondly. 

“Is there ... are there books about science?”

Elizabeth blinked in surprise and nodded as she stood up, “Yes, a whole section. What are you interested in, my dear sister?”

“I do not know,” Lydia admitted. “Well, I would like to learn more about silk, and cotton and wool. I find it interesting that silk can be used to stitch wounds, but cotton cannot. Also, where does cotton come from? And silk worms? What are they? I know that wool comes from sheep but how is it made into thread? Why does it keep us so warm?”

The girl blushed and hung her head a little, “I know I am not intelligent like you and Father, but I would like to learn about more than just clothes and officers.”

“Oh, Lyddy,” Elizabeth exclaimed, sweeping forward to give the girl a warm hug, “You are an intelligent person, and I would be delighted to help you search for books of interest.”

“Thank you, Lizzy.”

////////////////////////

Fitzwilliam Darcy, master of Pemberley, looked around the table with a deep sense of satisfaction. His dear Elizabeth was seated at the foot of the table with their daughter in her lap; the baby was eagerly reaching for bits of food from her mother’s plate, and Elizabeth spent her time eating hastily and cutting off appropriate lumps for the child. Darcy knew that most highborn men and women would be horrified at the presence of a baby at dinner, but he loved that Elizabeth was such an available and loving mother to their daughter.

Georgiana and Lydia were seated across from one another. Since it was a family meal, they were eating in a small dining room, and thus no one needed to shout to communicate.

“I read the most amazing thing this morning!” Lydia declared, helping herself to a roll of bread. 

“What did you read?” Georgiana asked curiously

“Well, first of all, did you know that there is a woman in the Bible named Lydia?” 

“Lydia, seller of purple cloth,” Darcy commented.

“Yes, Mr. Darcy, that is right!” the girl agreed enthusiastically. “I did not know my name came from the Bible. But that is not what I was going to say. Back in the time of Christ, purple was the color of royalty and the reason is that it was terribly expensive to make!”

Georgiana looked thoughtful, “I suppose that makes sense. If it was difficult to make purple dye, then only the rich could afford it. Did they use flowers to make the dyes?”

Lydia’s face flushed in excitement, “No, Georgiana! They used snails!”

“Snails?”

“Yes, a certain kind of marine snail was harvested by the thousands! They boiled them for days in giant vats and after enough time and work, the workers obtained a purple dye.”

Georgiana shuddered noticeably, “Poor snails!”

“I suppose so,” Lydia said cheerfully. “Yes, I suppose it is quite dreadful for the snails. All the same, is it not fascinating? I have to wonder how they determined that snails could be used for such a process in the first place? It is not as if the snails themselves are purple; one must process them for some time before the liquid becomes the proper color.”

“I believe more than once scientific breakthrough occurred due to someone being observant,” Darcy mused. “Perhaps a snail fell into a pot and someone noticed the resulting liquid had a purple cast?”

“It is all marvelous,” Lydia gushed, “absolutely marvelous. I do love your library, Mr. Darcy. There are so many fascinating books about science!”

The man blinked in surprise at this but smiled, “I am glad you think so.”

“Georgiana and Lydia,” Elizabeth said, deftly maneuvering her spoon around the questing hand of her baby and popping a spoonful of soup into her mouth.

“Yes, Elizabeth?” Georgiana asked.

Elizabeth swallowed and continued, “Do not forget that the modiste is coming to fit you for your court dresses today. She is to arrive here in about three hours.”

“I will be finished with my music lesson about that time,” Georgiana said.

Lydia looked thoughtful, “I will be reading in the library, Lizzy. Please send a servant to find me.”

//////////////////////////

_The Collins’ Residence_

_2 months later_

“Are you quite sure that Lydia will be no trouble, Charlotte?” Elizabeth asked in concern. “I know you are very busy with Tobias and the needs of Mr. Collins’s parishioners. Do you really need my excitable youngest sister dashing in and out of the parsonage on a regular basis?”

Charlotte Collins laughed, “My dear Lizzy, I assure you that both Mr. Collins and I are delighted to have Lydia here as long as Mary can spare her. It is not as if Lydia will be sleeping here, after all.”

“I suspect that now that Mary’s son has been born, Lydia will find ways to escape Bastow Hall and make her way here as often as possible. She genuinely loves her nieces and nephew, but she finds them excessively noisy.”

“That is quite all right,” Charlotte replied placidly. “We are glad to have her here. Indeed, Mr. Collins is absolutely delighted to have a science protégé. I confess to having little interest in steam engines and the medicinal properties of boiled silk thread, and am relieved to have Lydia as a conversational partner for my dear William; quite often, his conversation is entirely bewildering to me.”

“Mr. Collins is a certifiable genius, of course,” Elizabeth agreed, “but I have to admit that Lydia has astonished me profoundly. She has no interest in Shakespeare or Latin or Greek, but she loves the sciences.”

“I would say, my dear, that this is a beneficial situation for us all, then.”


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3 

_Balliol College_

_Oxford University_

_December 5 th, 1815 _

“You are not truly going to study through the Christmas holiday!” Frederick “Ferdy” Smythe demanded, casually kicking a log in the fireplace of his college room. The log shifted obligingly and the flames flared up, producing a welcome burst of heat in the rather chilly room.

Nathaniel Bastow shrugged deprecatingly, “Of course not the entire holiday, but yes, I will study. I want to pass my final exams, and I promise you my tutor is not pleased with my latest efforts.”

The Honorable Jude Arnold, heir to Viscount Damerel of Kent, took a deep draught of port wine and shook his head, “How very tedious that you poor plebeians find yourself studying ardently in order to receive your degree.”

There was a chuckle from the other resident of the room, Adam Manlow, who was himself the son of a baron, and Nathaniel Bastow laughed as well, “True enough, true enough. Nevertheless, I do not wish to stay here at college any longer than I must, and therefore I intend to study hard over the Christmas season in the hopes of passing the first time I sit for my exams. If my father had not insisted I stay in school, I would have fled years ago.”

“If you had, you would not have enjoyed our company for so long, which would have been a tragedy,” Smythe pointed out cheerfully, pouring himself another drink of port.

“Seriously, Bastow,” Jude Arnold continued, his brow furrowed with disapproval, “I cannot bear the thought of you studying away throughout the holidays in London. You know my parents would be delighted to have you visit, and our estate is only 50 miles south of your London home. You must come for at least a few days after Christmas! There will be some fine hunting.”

Bastow suppressed a slight shudder. He found nothing quite as boring and cold as riding a horse through field and forest in search of some hapless fox. Fortunately, he had a perfect excuse this time for declining what was undoubtedly a generous invitation by his friend.

“So sorry, old chap,” he replied gravely, “but I promised my parents that I would intend some wretched dinner party on the 28th of December. I do believe Mother hopes I will find a wife; apparently some of the unmarried ladies attached to the family are very wealthy.”

“Who will be your host?” Adam Manlow inquired lazily, leaning back on his chair.

“A, er, Mr. Darcy, if memory serves me,” Bastow replied.

Both of the men of noble birth sat up in astonishment and Manlow leaned forward in excitement, “Darcy of Pemberley?”

“I believe so, yes,” Nathaniel replied in some bewilderment. “Yes, Pemberley, that is right. Have you heard of him?”

The viscount’s son and the baron’s son exchanged awed glances.

“Heard of him, yes, of course we have!”Manlow exclaimed. “The Pemberley estate is worth 10,000 pounds a year and Darcy owns several subsidiary estates. His sister Miss Georgiana Darcy has a dowry of 30,000 pounds.”

“More to the point, Darcy’s dinner parties at Christmas are famous, Bastow, and invitations are prized like rubies. However did your mother snag you one?”

“I believe that my father was acquainted with someone who is connected to Mr. Darcy in some way.”

“You are a lucky man,” Manlow said with a deep sigh. “Very lucky. Miss Darcy is not the only possible heiress, mind you; Mr. Darcy has two sisters by marriage who are reputed to be both lovely and well dowered.”

“Not that you have much of a chance with any of them,” Arnold commented cynically. “Some truly high born men have been invited to a Darcy dinner party once and have never been invited back; Darcy is apparently extremely fastidious where his connections are concerned. But the food and drink are reputed to be excellent and you will no doubt rub shoulders with the elite of the land. You are indeed a fortunate man.”

Nathaniel Bastow, eldest son of a wealthy merchant, reluctant student at Balliol College of Oxford, suppressed a shudder.

“Yes,” he agreed in a hollow tone. “I am very fortunate indeed.”

////////////////////////

_Darcy House_

_London_

_December 28 th, 1815_

Nathaniel Bastow smiled mechanically at his host and hostess, Mr. and Mrs. Darcy. The former was tall, handsome, and rather intimidating and the latter was a thoroughly handsome woman with fine eyes and a vibrant expression.

“Mr. Bastow,” Mrs. Elizabeth Darcy said with a smile. “It is a pleasure to welcome you to our home.”

“Thank you, Mr. Darcy, Mrs. Darcy.”

“Please enter the dining room and find your seat, Mr. Bastow,” the lady continued with a gesture toward the hall to the right.

Nathaniel nodded and bowed before stepping away thankfully; behind him in the receiving line was a young man who was the second son of a duke. He felt thoroughly out of place here among the upper elite of London Society. He did not like fancy parties, and he did not wish to find a boring heiress to marry. The only reason he had submitted to this uncomfortable evening was that he loved his father and mother very much.

The dining room was, to Bastow’s surprise, set up with numerous small tables which seated four persons each. A servant was waiting just inside the door and directed him to a table set at the back of the room. There were two people already seated at the table, a portly man in clerical garb and a very handsome young woman dressed in a soft pink dress.

“But surely the accident at Greenwich indicates that high pressure steam engines are too dangerous,” the young lady insisted in an exasperated tone. “Watt’s lower pressure system is far safer.”

“An accident does not necessarily mean that the design is dangerous,” the portly parson replied indignantly. “Trevithick insisted that the Greenwich accident was due to operator error.”

Nathaniel Bastow found himself standing behind his chair with his mouth hung open in astonishment. 

“Ah, Mr. Nathaniel Bastow?” the clergyman inquired, clambering rather clumsily to his feet.

“Yes, sir,” Nathaniel agreed with wide eyes.

“I am Mr. William Collins. I hold a living near the Pemberley Estate, and Mr. Darcy is my patron. This is Miss Lydia Bennet, youngest sister of Mrs. Darcy.”

“Mr. Collins, Miss Bennet,” Bastow managed to croak out, bowing toward both. He was quite certain that his bows were all wrong; there were very specific rules about how deeply to bow to various individuals, but his brain was too distracted by the conversation for him to remember the details.

“I am sorry,” he continued carefully, “but were you speaking of steam engines?”

“Yes, indeed,” Miss Lydia Bennet agreed cheerfully. “Please, do sit down, Mr. Bastow. My eldest sister, Mrs. Jane Bingley, tells me that you are a science enthusiast with a particular interest in steam engines, locomotives, and plumbing.”

Nathaniel’s eyes nearly popped out of his sockets, “Yes, that is correct! Are you ... could you be interested in such things, Miss ... Miss Bennet?”

“I am indeed,” Lydia said dreamily. “It is all so fascinating, is it not? The use of heat to make steam, the steam to power engines. Horses have their place, of course, but they tire, they get injured. If steam power is improved sufficiently, the time of the horse may pass.”

The youth shook his head in amazement, “I agree, Miss Bennet! Most people scoff at the very notion, but think of it, an engine that never needs to rest, that can be fueled continually.”

He turned away from this thoroughly fascinating young woman to the clergyman, “Am I correct that you too are interested in such things as steam power?”

“Yes, Mr. Bastow,” Mr. Collins said, taking a drink of water. “Yes, indeed. I too am a science enthusiast in a variety of areas.”

Bastow eagerly sat down, “I actually rode Trevithick’s locomotive, _Catch Me You Can_! On its track in Bloomsbury.”

Lydia Bennet squealed with delight and Mr. Collins leaned forward enthusiastically, “Did you indeed, Mr. Bastow? What year?”

“It must have been 1808,” Nathaniel replied with stars in his eyes. “It was a delightful experience, absolutely delightful. The smell of the burning coal, the rumble of the locomotive beneath me. I was only 13 or 14 at the time but I will never forget it. Indeed, that experience fueled my interest in steam power.”

He sighed and shook his head, “I know my father greatly regrets buying me that ticket, but I find I cannot tear my interests away from steam power.”

“Why is your father unhappy?” Collins demanded.

Nathaniel winced. He should not have mentioned his father’s displeasure, especially in front of Miss Lydia Bennet, sister to Mrs. Darcy herself!

“Let me guess,” Miss Bennet replied knowingly. “Your father wishes for you to pursue more gentlemanly pursuits, and thus is exasperated with your interest in industrial concerns.”

There was real sympathy in her lovely face and he nodded hesitantly, “Yes, Miss Bennet, that is entirely correct. Father has worked hard his whole life to earn money and make connections, thus enabling me to enter Oxford and rub shoulders with gentlemen. He is a kind and generous father, but this is not his vision for my life.”

“Absolute nonsense,” Mr. Collins snapped in reply, causing both Lydia and Nathaniel to jump slightly. “We would all be best served by using the gifts that God has given us, nor is there any shame in working in business or industrial interests. I find such idiocy most frustrating!”

“Mr. Collins,” Miss Bennet replied in a gentle tone, “take care not to alarm our guest.”

“Of course, of course, Mr. Bastow,” the parson replied, taking another hasty sip of water. “I do apologize. I fear my enthusiasm for encouraging one’s intellectual passions sometimes overcomes my manners.”

“Lydia, Mr. Collins, Mr. Bastow?”

All three looked up at Mrs. Elizabeth Darcy, who was standing near their table with a young, very finely dressed gentleman at her left. Collins and Bastow rose to their feet while Lydia remained seated.

“May I introduce you to Viscount Crampton, eldest son of the Marquis of Stanton? Lord Crampton, my sister, Miss Lydia Bennet, Mr. William Collins and Mr. Nathaniel Bastow.”


	4. Final note

Final author note: Again, I want to say **thank you** to all of you who have been reading this story. Your feedback and encouragement is so valuable to me. When people ask why my books are doing well, I tell them it's because of you.

If you are interested, my final novel version of _The Enigmatic Mr. Collins_ with tweaks, additions and nice long epilogue is [now available on Amazon and Kindle Unlimited](https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08V4VWX73/ref=sr_1_16?crid=1TNX04JKQCVK2&dchild=1&keywords=pride+and+prejudice+variations).

ps. If you haven't seen it, please look here on AO3 for my latest story I am writing, Longbourn Inheritance. :-)

**Author's Note:**

> Be sure to check out my P&P novels on Amazon and Kindle Unlimited.  
> Darcy Sails After Her - new release!  
> A Fortuitous Fall  
> The Banished Uncle  
> The Blind Will See  
> I am Jael  
> I Have Been Jaeled
> 
> **  
> **  
> Fair warning. I intend to publish this entire story here (as I write it) including the last chapter, but the last chapter will only be up a few days before I have to take it down per Amazon rules when I self-publish.


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